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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130251">wonderfully mundane</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses'>twokisses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Blood Drinking, Domestic Fluff, FLUFFY domestic blood-sucking, Ficlet, M/M, Slice of Life, baz's cold dead hands too, domestic blood-sucking, i know right? i didn't know it was possible either, wham! and wake me up before you go-go cos you can pry that song out of my cold dead hands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon is still clumsy with a blade when he shaves, and Baz is still a vampire attracted to blood.</p><p>But six years on, it's really not such a big deal anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wonderfully mundane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wrote this for some friends who very kindly encouraged me to post it 💖</p><p>(this was also originally written as a sort of "deleted scene" from my fic 'nice and easy'. if you've read that, you'll recognise the surrounding context of simon playing his songs in the bedroom and mentions of a wedding reception, but it is not necessary to read that to understand this) (though of course i would love and appreciate it if you <em>did</em> read that fic)</p><p>anyway - enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For all of the eight years that Simon shared a bathroom with Baz at Watford, he was always waiting for the time when he wouldn’t have to anymore. Because not sharing a bathroom would, by extension, probably mean not sharing a bedroom, either. Or really <em>any </em>amount of space with Baz. And Simon thought that that was all he would need in life to be truly happy.</p><p>It would have been hard to convince him, then, that six years after, he’d be doing it all over again, in the en suite of a London flat that he and Baz live in together. And that he’d be doing it entirely out of choice. He would have never believed it—but as it is now, he can’t imagine his life being any different.</p><p>They're shoulder-to-shoulder at the bathroom sink. Brushing every now and then as Baz reaches for one of his myriad tubes of stuff, and Simon for his toothbrush in the little holder they have in one corner of the counter. Simon's songs continue playing on the speaker in the bedroom; the filtered-down sound of them echoes lightly off the smooth tiled walls. (Shuffle has apparently hit a <em>Wham!</em> stride, because there have been three of those in a row by now.) (Baz is currently trying to surreptitiously bop to <em>Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go</em>. Operative word there being 'trying'.)</p><p>It's wonderfully mundane. Exquisitely boring.</p><p>Baz has now started on the monumental task of making his hair look 'decent' (his words, not Simon's) (if Simon had anything close to Baz's hair, he'd never even take a comb to it before leaving the house). Simon is done washing his mouth of toothpaste, and now he checks his chin in the mirror—that could, at a stretch, use a shave. But that's all the incentive he needs.</p><p>Shaving foam applied and blade uncapped, he goes to work. <em>Wake Me Up</em> has slowed into the bridge now, and as Simon can see in the mirror, Baz's movements have eased to match the tempo. He's never <em>not</em> a drama queen, but it becomes particularly apparent when no one—or only Simon—is watching.</p><p><em>"Cuddle up, baby,"</em> George Michael sings, and Baz lip-syncs to follow, lifting his hands a little as he does a small slide toward Simon. <em>"Move in tight."</em></p><p>He actually sings the next line out loud, <em>"We'll go dancing tomorrow night"</em>, and his voice, as Simon expects, is just as gorgeous and lush as always. What Simon <em>isn't</em> expecting is for Baz to add a little more pizzazz to his improvised dance routine. On the word <em>'dancing'</em> he snaps his shoulders forward, and throws in a small flick of his hair as well. Simon can't help it—he laughs, and a sharp sting at his jaw immediately follows.</p><p>"Ah, fuck," he mutters, a smile still leftover on his lips even as he sees, in the mirror, a bright spot of red materialising amidst the white foam on his face. It's vivid and eye-catching, a warning sign, and the sting in his jaw echoes the sentiment. He puts his blade down onto the lip of the sink and briskly twists the tap on, cupping a palm under the flow of water. Then he brings it up to his face and dabs it around the spot. The foam slides off onto his hand, tinged pink. But new blood comes quickly to the surface of the cut to replace the old.</p><p>"Sorry, love," Baz says. His voice is quieter now—lower—than it was a few moments ago. Then Simon feels gentle fingers on his chin, tilting his face up and slightly away from Baz's face, so the cut becomes further exposed to him. Simon knows he's inspecting it, mostly, but he can also see, when he glances at Baz in the mirror, that his eyes are half-lidded as they survey the small, leaking cut.</p><p>"S'alright," Simon murmurs. Baz has leaned in, and now his nose is brushing against Simon's cheek, his lips against the skin of Simon's jaw adjacent to the wound. Baz makes a humming sound then, that lifts up at the end in a question. Simon can't exactly nod in the position he's in—or, he can, but he'd rather not disturb the light, fine, and lovely tension of the moment if he doesn't have to—so he just gives Baz a quiet, "Yeah. Go on, then."</p><p>A few years ago, Baz would have asked again to be sure. A few years ago, Baz wouldn't have even approached Simon after he cut himself. He would have left the room entirely. But a few years makes a lot of difference.</p><p>As it is, the Baz of now doesn't hesitate, and lets his tongue slide easily over the wound.</p><p>The extremely fine shiver that travels through Simon's body can't be helped. It doesn't matter how many times Baz has done this—and there have been countless times, because Simon is still a 'hopelessly clumsy oaf' who 'never learns through sheer stubbornness'. It doesn't matter if he's prepared for the feeling of it. It still gets to him. And it’s getting to Baz too; Simon's eyes are still open, but he can see that Baz's have slid closed.</p><p>His lips close over Simon's jaw once the wound has stopped freely bleeding, and Simon takes in a small breath when he begins lightly sucking at the skin. The highly effective (and more enjoyable) equivalent of squeezing at your wound to get the dirty blood out is having your vampire boyfriend draw it out for you. Simon knows that advice can't be generally given, but seriously, if anyone <em>does</em> have the incredible advantage that he does, he would highly recommend it.</p><p>His cheeks are flushing now, and every part of his body is warm. And as Baz slides an arm around his waist to pull him closer, and begins stroking over Simon's lower lip with his thumb, Simon begins to fear that they might be sliding into dangerous territory. They have a wedding reception to get to. And very expensive, finicky suits to get <em>into</em>. And only about an hour left to do those things. They absolutely will not make it if Baz keeps at this the way he is now—Simon's already getting worked up.</p><p>Luckily, the cut isn't big enough to afford that much blood. Baz is done cleaning it—how responsible of him—in what is probably only a minute. He lets his tongue flick against the area, and the sensation makes a giggle bubble out of Simon's chest. He can feel Baz's lips pull into a smile against his skin, and then Baz is digging his fingers into Simon's side, which he knows is Simon's most ticklish spot, and Simon laughs out loud, squirming away from Baz and his clever, grinning mouth.</p><p>George is still passionately belting in the background about not planning on going solo. And when Simon turns to look up at Baz's face, it's just as happy, easy and carefree as the song that underlies the moment—even if his eyes are a little hazier than normal.</p><p>"Alright, Snow?" he asks. Contentment and amusement is clear in his voice, and that ever-present affection Simon has become so used to shines cheekily in his eyes. His arm is still around Simon's middle.</p><p>"Tip-top," Simon says. He’s smiling as he slides his foam-free hand into Baz's hair to pull him in for a kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on <a href="https://sbazzing.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> ✨</p></blockquote></div></div>
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